because we're in too deep
by AlwaysPadfoot
Summary: His father always promised he'd send him here; Sirius hadn't thought he was actually serious.


**AN: **QLFC Season: Quarter Finals [Captain - Write a story dedicated to your entire team [*Keeper - Sirius Black (character), Chaser 1 - baby blue (colour), *Chaser 2 - mauve (colour), Chaser 3 - luggage (item), Beater 1 - dusk (time), *Beater 2 - any AU really (au), Seeker - Minerva McGonagall (character) *those which heavily influence the story]

**Word Count**: 1607

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**because we're in too deep**

**AlwaysPadfoot**

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Sirius had to admit he certainly hadn't seen this punishment coming. As with every school he had been expelled from his parents always found another one afterwards.

This was not a school.

This was mud on his new white trainers; this was the scent of shit in the air; this was the sky threatening rain when he still had to drag his case up the dirty back lane he was standing at the top of. No wonder their driver, Hooch, had been grinning in the last leg of their eleven-hour journey north from London. No wonder the wheels had practically spun as she drove away.

The sun was low in the sky. Soon it would be dark and the temperature would drop even further.

Sirius was really starting to wish he'd worn a thicker coat. It was like minus five degrees and the vest top and hoodie he was wearing with his ripped skinny jeans really was not cutting it.

Attempting to avoid the pools of muddy water, Sirius picked his way down the lane, dragging his case behind him.

By the time he'd reached the gate his trainers were caked with mud. Fresh droplets of rain were hitting his exposed skin and he was already wishing that this was a joke—even a nightmare would be better. He would happily take a beating from his father over whatever this was.

Through the trees Sirius could make out the shapes of buildings. He was hoping this was just a really rural school but the lack of signs and students made him doubtful.

His gaze fell to the rusted bolt of the gate he'd reached. It took substantially more effort to wiggle the bolt across far enough to actually push the gate ajar. Yanking his suitcase out of a pothole, dirty water splashing up his leg, Sirius squeezed through and kicked the gate shut behind him. He could feel himself getting irritated already.

Fishing his mobile from his pocket he was unsurprised to find there wasn't even a bar of signal to be found.

"Fuck this." Shoving it back into his hoodie pocket Sirius looked down at his mud-encrusted shoes. "Fuck all of this."

He was about to drag his suitcase out of another puddle when he heard a branch crack behind him. Twisting on the spot, Sirius surveyed the tree line, looking for the perpetrator, and finding nothing. Pursing his lips, Sirius reached for the handle of his suitcase, only to find it wasn't there.

"What the—" His suitcase was nowhere to be seen and it wasn't as though it could just disappear into thin air. "Who's there?"

Sirius turned at the sound of the gate creaking to find another boy sat on top of it. With messy black hair and hipster lens, he didn't look particularly threatening, nor did he appear to have Sirius' case. He was wearing a deep mauve polo shirt with a black logo Sirius couldn't quite make out under his coat and his jeans were tucked into muddy black boots.

"You must be Sirius?" he said. "James Potter at your service."

"Look if you just want to point me in the direction of my case," Sirius began.

The boy cocked his head to the side and frowned. "What case?"

It took all of Sirius' restraint to not to say something along the lines of '_well, fuck you kindly'_ and instead he heaved a sigh. "Fine, the main building, or barn or whatever, where is it?"

James lifted both hands and pointed in two directions at the same time. "That way."

"You know what? You're a prick."

Sirius turned on his heel and walked away from James in the direction that was the least muddy. He kept his eyes peeled for any evidence of his case but there wasn't any. Sirius knew, of course, that it would turn up. He was confident that the lock would hold and as soon as he found some figure of authority he'd report it missing.

James didn't follow.

However, the heavens opened above him, and even though it seemed that he had selected the right path, Sirius was drenched by the time he reached the thatched cottage at the top of the lane.

Ducking under the wooden porch Sirius scowled as he tried to scrape off as much mud as he could from his white trainers. They were ruined—that he knew—but he couldn't help but try. He hated every second of this already. Swearing through gritted teeth Sirius lifted a hand and knocked on the door. He didn't have long to wait before the door opened. Warmth washed over him before the outline of someone tall stepped into the doorframe. It took him a second to realise that said person wasn't an adult—just another guy about his age wearing the same coloured mauve polo shirt as James had been.

"Hi, is there someone in charge around?" Sirius asked.

The guy didn't respond. He simply pulled the door wider and stepped away. Cautiously Sirius slipped inside. In the light, he could see that the boy's face was scarred, and Sirius forced his gaze not to linger. He was about to open his mouth to ask again for someone in charge when the other boy walked away into an adjoining room.

Sirius raised an eyebrow and rubbed his hands together to warm them up. His hoodie was soaked through; when he squeezed the sleeves, water actually dripped from them.

He yanked it over his head. "Fucking, stupid, absolutely—"

Someone cleared their throat and Sirius pulled the hoodie off, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light change. He found himself face to face with a rather stern-looking woman. Her dark hair was scraped back into a bun and she was looking at Sirius with scorn in her eyes. Her accent was Scottish when she spoke. "Sirius Black, I presume?"

"Yeah, that's me," he responded, "and you are?"

Sirius tugged his vest-top down where it had ridden up and looked briefly to the tall boy from before who had one eyebrow raised at him. When he stepped aside, walking over to the sink to continue peeling potatoes, Sirius spotted his suitcase by the kitchen table.

"Dr Minerva McGonagall. You're late Mr Black. Your father said you'd be here before five pm; it's nearly six," she returned. "You better take your things upstairs to your room and dry off. I've left a clean polo top on your bed."

"Where is here?" Sirius asked.

No one had told him anything about this place at all. For a moment the boy stopped peeling potatoes and the room went silent. Minerva looked at him with curiosity in her eyes as though she was looking for any hint that he was winding her up.

"Go get warm and dry then, before dinner, we will talk," she said simply.

Before Sirius could ask anything else Minerva turned to the taller boy to talk about dinner. "Remus, do you need any help at all? I could ask one of the others; Peter or James?"

Sirius noticed the tall boy, Remus, simply shook his head as he walked across to grab his suitcase. Their conversation faded into the background as Sirius checked his case for any sign that someone had even tried to get inside it. He concluded that no one had and quickly rolled it out into the corridor. With wooden floors and creaky stairs Sirius could hardly be quiet. Heaving the case up the final stair, he stopped to catch his breath and look around the corridor.

Each room had a name hung in a hoop on the door. They were all stitched onto fabric. Sirius frowned as he rolled his case past.

_James Potter. _

_Peter Pettigrew._

_Remus Lupin._

Then Sirius came to a door with his name. Unlike the other boys, it was just a singular yellow post-it with his name on, rather than an intricate cross-stitch.

He pushed it open with his back and hauled his case inside.

The room was modest. The floorboards were whitewashed and the walls a soft baby blue. There was a distinct lack of furniture—only a bed, bedside table, and cupboard available. The bed was unmade though there was a pile of folded sheets at the end of it. Of course, he was never going to admit he hadn't made a bed before, so he'd figure that out later. The light was fast fading outside so Sirius flicked on the light as he passed the switch.

Dumping his wet hoodie on the floor, Sirius opened his case and sought out dry clothes.

He still had no idea what this place was. With James, the apparent kleptomaniac, and Remus, the mute boy with scars across his face, he had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Peeling off wet clothes Sirius changed into dry jeans and a hoodie before eyeing up the polo shirt. He lifted up the matching mauve top and squinted at the embroidered logo.

_St Hogwarts For Troubled Boys_

Sirius stared at it in horror. He'd heard about this place; he'd heard about what the boys here were like. Remus had probably got his scars here.

A swear word escaped his lips. Sirius slid to his knees to search through his case. His laptop was still there; his electronics too; the cigarettes were hidden away in his shoes; it was all there still. He clutched at his favourite hoodie and took a shaky breath. His father always promised he'd send him here; Sirius hadn't thought he was actually serious.

He was in deep and he wasn't convinced he was going to live to tell the tale.


End file.
